


Durin family Beginnings

by RivanWarrioress



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Durin Family Feels, F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Thorin and Dís are not related, Thorin is Fili and Kili's dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivanWarrioress/pseuds/RivanWarrioress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin barely knew Dís, the younger sister of Frerin's best friend, but when he goes to inform her of her brother's, they are brought together by the tragedy.  Set of connected oneshots about Thorin, Dís, and their life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

It was raining, quite heavily, and Thorin brushed his hair back from his face in annoyance, water dripping off his nose as he travelled along the road, mindful of the puddles that lined the path.  He had met the owner of the home he was travelling to before, and he had no desire to raise her ire by tracking water and mud needlessly though her home.

 

Normally Thorin enjoyed his position as the son of the king (although he had only just come into that title, upon the death of his grandfather, a few short months ago) His role as future king gave him a purpose...a reason to continue existing, even though his whole world had fallen apart ever since Smaug had claimed Erebor as his own, causing untold death and suffering to Thorin’s people.  Thorin’s own mother had been killed on that fateful day, and Thorin would never forget the grief his father had shown upon learning that his wife was not among those that had fled the mountain.

 

Thinking of his parents brought Thorin’s mind to the subject of Frerin, and his heart clenched painfully as he remembered his baby brother’s last moments, cradled in Thorin’s arms as Frerin’s life blood drained away through the gaping hole in his chest, left by an orc sword as Frerin fought alongside his older brother.    
  
Frerin had been far too young to be involved in war; the world had still been a new and exciting place for the youngest of Thrain’s children.  Frerin had been a small child when Erebor had been lost, one of the few dwarflings to survive.  Thorin vividly remembered carrying his brother in his arms as they fled their former home, promising to him that everything would be alright...that they would get their mountain back.

 

In the years since then Frerin had grown into a strong, brave young dwarf, with a small beard, and a charming personality.  Frerin had four friends that were close to his own age, and Thorin sought to protect them as if they too were his younger brothers.  All five of them had gone into battle, trying to defeat the orcs that resided in Moria. Of them, none had survived, all of them dying in the battle that claimed so many of Thorin’s people...family and friend alike.

 

Thorin let out a sigh and looked up at the house that was his destination, wishing, not for the first time, that he had accepted Balin’s offer to accompany him as he visited the families of Frerin’s friends and informed them of their son’s death.

 

Of the four, this was the last...and Thorin had no doubts that this would be the hardest.  Gíli had been Frerin’s best friend...they were inseparable, having grown up together.  Thorin had trained them to fight together, taking Gíli in as a member of his own family.  Gíli had no living relatives, except for his younger sister.  They had lost their father the day that Smaug arrived at the mountain, and their mother to grief shortly afterwards. Thorin had taken the young pair in wishing he could do something more for them.

 

Thorin walked up the stone steps that led to the front door of the small home Dís and Gíli had shared, knocking on the wooden door.  It was quickly answered by Dís, her eyes wide, although at the sight of Thorin on her doorstep they brimmed with tears.  Thorin’s heart clenched painfully, knowing that, the moment she saw him, Dís knew what had happened.

 

“No...Oh please no...Not Gíli...not him.”

 

‘I’m sorry,” Thorin apologised.  He wasn’t used to apologising...but Thorin knew that his apologised had never been more earnest than the one he gave to Dis.

 

“What...what happened?”

 

“We were victorious...but we paid a heavy price.  The king is dead, as...as is Frerin and Gíli, and over half of our army.  I...I tried to look out for them, but I was injured, and we were separated.  There were far more Orcs than we anticipated, and the boys...they were just too young.  We should never have taken them with us.” Thorin’s voice was thick with emotion, and he had to stop and clear his throat, as it seemed to have swelled, making it near impossible to talk.

 

“Was...was it quick?’ Dís asked in a broken voice, stepping aside and letting Thorin into her home. 

 

Thorin nodded, “It was over very quickly for Gíli, from what we could tell.  I found him and Frerin, side by side after the battle, but Gíli was already gone by then.  Frerin was still alive ...but he only lasted a few more minutes.” Thorin broke off, his mind filled with the memory of his brother, coughing blood and mortally wounded, on the battlefield.  Thorin remembered how he had cradled Frerin in his arms, trying to sooth his baby brother, just like he had when Frerin had been small.  Thorin knew that he would never forget the moment that Frerin went limp in his arms, his eyes loosing focus as he died, cradled in Thorin’s arms.  Thorin didn’t know how long he had knelt there, Gili’s body beside him, holding Frerin in his arms, crying...screaming...begging his brother to come back. 

 

“I’m sorry,” it was Dís’ turn to apologise, “It must have been awful to find them like that...and be forced to live with that memory engraved in your mind, like being carved into stone.  I am sorry I made you relive it.”

 

Thorin swallowed, knowing that Dís knew him too well to try and deceive her.  She knew how much loosing Frerin and Gíli was hurting him.  Unable to speak, knowing that if he did he would start crying, Thorin instead held out an arm to Dís, and she took the invitation, stepping close to him, allowing him to pull her into a embrace.  Thorin buried his head into the protection of Dís’ thick, hair, and kissed the top of her head. Tears rolling, unbidden, down his cheeks.  Dís’ shoulders shook, and Thorin knew she was crying.  It made his chest tighten even more, and he blinked as more tears rolled down his face.

 

Neither dwarf knew how long they stood there, crying, clinging to each other as if they were all each other had.  Thorin rubbed Dís’ back, and Dís clutched onto his thick fur cloak as she sobbed into Thorin’s chest.

 

Eventually Dís pulled away from Thorin, wiping her tearstained cheeks, and looking up at him with red, puffy eyes.

 

“Have you eaten tonight?  It is late, but I have some bread that I brought today, and some cheese and a little dried meat...although I image after being away at war you have had quite enough of that.”

 

“I couldn’t do that,” Thorin said, shaking his head.  He was well aware how hard things were for Gíli and Dis.  The two of them barely scraped a living.  Gíli had worked in the forge with Thorin before the war, and Dís had earned some coins through her sewing and weaving, but they were still quite poor.

 

“Nonsense,” Dís shook her head, “I insist.  It is late, and it is still raining heavily.  You could become ill if you went outside into that rain, and where would that leave your people?  Besides...I feel that I will need some company.  I would be a lowly dwarf indeed if I let our prince go hungry.”

 

With that she walked to her small kitchen and prepared their evening meal.  Thorin went outside and fetched some firewood from the side of the house, before re-entering and tending to the fire in the hearth, which had burned low while they had grieved.  Dís approached him, handing him a plate of food.  Remembering his manners, Thorin sat at the table, and they ate in silence.  Thorin was surprised how hungry he was, although he had experienced no real craving for food.

 

After they had finished eating Thorin helped Dís clean up, and then they sat together in front of the fire, Dís’ head resting on Thorin’s shoulder as they watched the flickering flames.

 

“Before...before the battle, Gíli made me promise that I would look after you...should something happen to him, and I lived through the battle.  He wanted to know that you would be looked after...protected,” Thorin told Dís, who nodded.

 

“That sounds so much like him...always thinking of others...me, or Frerin.  He idolised you...worshipped the ground you stood on.  I remember the day he first met you...it was only a year or so after Erebor, and I remember him coming in and picking me up and spinning me around, telling me about how he met Prince Thorin, and how everything was going to be better...how our lives were going to be better...that we wouldn’t have to live through any more suffering.  He knew you would save us.”

 

“And instead I led him to his death,” Thorin said in a defeated tone.  Dís straightened and pulled away, looking at Thorin.  She put a hand on his chest.

 

“No,” she corrected, “You made it clear to everyone that any who didn’t want to go wasn’t obliged to...I know you actively tried to talk Frerin and Gíli out of going...but they were stubborn...You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened to them.  It is not your fault, and no-one should ever tell you that it is...not even you.  Frerin and Gíli made their own choices...they were their own dwarves, and their deaths should not affect the way you live your life.”

 

“How can they not,” Thorin managed to croak out, “my younger brother is dead...as is my grandfather, and so many of the people I promised to protect when we fled Erebor.  My father cannot cope with his grief, and the people look to me for guidance.  I...I who could not even protect my brother and his best friend from an army of orcs.”

 

Dís swatted Thorin’s arm, “Did you not listen to a word I just said...it was not your fault, and you must stop believing it was, otherwise people will start believing you...regardless of the truth, and all will be lost.  You must rise above your own guilt, and be a leader to our people...help them grieve, give them time, help them move on, just like you have for me tonight.  Show them that you are sad about what has happened, but give them hope for the future.”

 

Thorin looked at Dís, something akin to awe in his eyes.  Here was Dís, sitting before him, no more than a few hours after learning of her brother’s death, giving him advice.  In the back of his mind Thorin remembered the young dwarf Dís had been when they first met.

 

“When did you get so wise?” Thorin asked her, a wry smile on his face, “You speak with wisdom beyond your years.”

 

“I am not so young, Thorin, that I am considered a child...and Gíli being away has forced me to grow up and mature.  The world is not so kind to those who refuse to see the darkness that plagues it.”

 

“That is true,” Thorin conceded, “although I wish it was not the case.”

 

Dís smiled, and moved back to her position beside Thorin, who put his arm around her shoulders.

 

“Still...I am glad you are here with me.  I do not like being alone so much, and this house has felt empty since Gíli left.”

 

Thorin subconsciously tightened his grip on Dís’ shoulders, “I am glad I am here as well,” he told her, “Being here...it comforts me in many ways.  Thank you, Dís, for inviting me so freely into your home.”

 

‘I am glad I can be of use, your highness.  If you should ever be in need of council, you know where to find me.”  Thorin looked at Dís, and a small smile crossed his face as he looked down at her, brushing a strand of her blond hair back from her face, getting lost for a moment in her eyes.  Thorin had always thought Dís was pretty, and that her eyes were stunning, but he had never actually said it.  If Thorin was honest with himself he had always thought of her as a child, even though she was not that much younger than him, but now that she sat beside him, obviously a grown dwarf woman, both in mind and body, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her.  She was obviously strong, coping with the hurdles that life had thrown in her way with resilience and determination.  She was kind and open hearted, but at the same time practical and resourceful, and she knew how to see the good in any situation.  After so many things that had happened to himself personally, and to his people, Thorin couldn’t help but admire Dís’ positive outlook on life.

 

Dís, for her part, was looking up at Thorin, studying the careworn and battle weary lines on his face...taking in how much older he looked now, compared to the last time she had seen him.  It pained her to see the suffering and grief in his eyes, but at the same time she admired his courage and determination.  Dís knew of dwarves who, having lived through what Thorin had endured, had given up...Not Thorin though...he just kept getting back to his feet and fought on, determined to do right for his people and provide them with a home to call their own.

 

A log in the fire popped and shifted, and both dwarves jumped, surprised by the noise, both of them having been lost in their study of the other’s face.   Dís felt her cheeks redden and she dropped her gaze, turning back towards the fire, moving to rest her head back on Thorin’s shoulder.  Thorin, for his part, wished his heart would slow down a little, as it was pounding rapidly in his chest, and he was worried that Dís would hear it.  Unable to continue without doing something, however, Thorin moved his left hand until it found Dís’ right hand, and he took it carefully, tracing patterns on the back of Dís’ hand with his thumb.  Dís shifted at the contact, but did not draw her hand away.  Thorin took this to mean that she did not mind, and continued to slowly move his thumb, at the same time memorising the feel of Dís’ hand in his own.  It was meant to relax and comfort Dís, but Thorin found it relaxing as well, and he leaned his head back against a char, and watched the fire flicker and burn. 

 

Beside him, Thorin felt Dís’ breathing even out and slow, and he realised with a pang that she had fallen asleep.  In his head, Thorin knew that he should carry Dís to her bed, and then take his leave, but she looked comfortable where she was, and Thorin himself didn’t want to face the prospect of his own cold, lonely bed, beck at his house.  Glancing around, Thorin spotted a throw rug within reach, on the chair he was leaning against, and he grabbed it, flicking it out with his spare hand and draping it over Dís’ body. 

 

That done, Thorin shifted a little closer to Dís and rested his head on top of hers, all the while watching the fire as it begun to burn low in the hearth.  His eyes began to get heavy, and Thorin did not fight it as he drifted into darkness.      


	2. Fíli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is an anxious father the day Fíli is born

 

It was springtime, and a gentle breeze blew through the open window of the house, bringing with it subtle scents of the mountain flowers that were blooming outside.  The sweet scent of the flowers, however, was not noticed by the inhabitants of the house.  Thorin, son of Thrain and rightful king of Erebor, sat in a comfortable chair, his gaze distant, completely oblivious to the scent of the flowers, and those who sat with him. Balin and Dwalin, Thorin’s closest friends, companions, and advisors, watched their young king as he sat, both of them wondering what was going through his mind.

 

Neither of the brothers had ever been married, nor had they ever fathered a child.  Thorin, on the other hand, was married, these past four years, to Dís, the sister of Gíli, who had fallen beside Frerin, younger brother of Thorin, and was moments away from becoming a father himself.

 

The courtship of Thorin and Dís had been long, prolonged by their relative youth, the sudden disappearance of Thorin’s father, Thrain, and by their lack of a constant home.  Both Thorin and Dís had agreed that they would not wed until their people had a place to call their own, and their wedding ceremony had been the first official function held within the public hall of the newly settled dwarf colony of Ered Luin. 

 

Everyone had celebrated the marriage of their King, and now eagerly anticipated the birth of the king’s child, and prospective heir.

 

A scream from the direction of Thorin and Dís’ bedchamber made Dwalin flinch, and Balin let out a sigh, reaching out and resting his hand on Thorin’s tense shoulders.

 

“It’ll be alright, laddie.  Dís is strong, she’s a fighter...you’ll have your babe soon.  Had you discussed names?” Balin coaxed. 

 

Thorin blinked, his gaze still fixed on the wall that separated him from Dís, “some, but we agreed to wait until after before deciding on one.”

 

“Perhaps a wise move.” Balin agreed, shooting Dwalin a look, hoping for some advice on how to draw their king into conversation, distracting him from what was going on in his bedchamber.

 

“I hear that Dori’s new brother is growing well,” Dwalin ventured.  Dori was a friend of Thorin, although he wasn’t related to him, unlike Balin and Dwalin.  He had two younger brothers; the younger of them had been born a few weeks after Thorin’s wedding.  Little Ori had been a small and sickly baby at first, but now was growing quickly, under their care of his overprotective big brother, and his mother.

 

Thorin didn’t react, lost in his own thoughts.  He barely remembered the day that Frerin had been born, but he remembered loving his little brother from the moment the baby had been put in his small arms.  Would it be like that again, when his own child was placed in his                   arms?  Would the baby look like him, or Dís, or even one of his or her uncle’s?  Would it be a boy, or a girl, big and strong or small and sickly, and doomed to live only a short while?  Would the baby be a warrior, like Thorin, or a scholar, like Dís, or Balin?  Maybe a mixture of both?

 

Another scream tore through the air of the home, and Thorin got abruptly to his feet and began to pace, unable to sit still anymore.  Thorin closed his eyes, trying to visualise Dís...the night he realised he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her...the night he told her of Gili’s death,  the day, a few months later, when he had taken her on a picnic in the fields, and they had kissed for the first time, the numerous days in between when they had worked together to find a home for their people, Dís taking the mantle of a queen in everything but name, showering their people with kindness and a feminine patience that Thorin could never possess.

 

He remembered their wedding day, Dís’ long blond hair elaborately braided by other dwarf women, a silver circlet resting on her head, marking her as the Queen under the mountain.  She had looked so beautiful that day, Thorin had forgotten everything else...it was as if it had just been them, him and her, there.  Nothing else had mattered to Thorin.  Not Erebor and the dragon, not the burdens of being a king without a throne, not the loss of so many of his family...His grandfather, his father, Frerin, Gíli, his mother...none of it had mattered.  The only thing that mattered to him was Dís.

 

Most vividly, Thorin recalled the day Dís had lain beside him in the evening, stroking his chest as they lay in bed, and she told him that she was carrying his child within her.  Thorin had been thrilled, and had kissed her passionately, before they had lain together, side by side, and Thorin had worshipped the entirety of Dís’ body, paying special attention to her still flat stomach, where his child lay.

 

Ever since then Thorin had slept with his arm around Dís, his hand resting on the steadily growing swell of Dís’ stomach, protecting his wife and unborn child from anything that could bring harm to them. 

 

Now, though, there was nothing he could do to protect either of them.  For the moment their safety and wellbeing was completely out of his hands, and there was nothing he could do about it.  It wasn’t that Thorin distrusted Oin and the midwife that was assisting Dís...he trusted them both with his own life, and those of his wife and child, having known them for many years, but he hated not being able to do anything.   

 

Thorin’s thoughts were broken through, and he whipped his head around towards the source of the disturbance, unable to dare hope that the noise was what he thought it was.  Yes there it was again, unmistakeable.

 

The sounds of a crying baby.

 

Thorin’s knees buckled, and if it weren’t for Balin and Dwalin, supporting him from either side, he would have crumpled to the ground. Carefully Balin and Dwalin guided Thorin back into his chair.

 

“May we be the first, your majesty, to offer our congratulations on the birth of your child,” Balin told Thorin who gave a nod, a rather goofy looking smile spreading across his face.

 

“He, or she...they’re finally here,” Thorin whispered, and Dwalin thumped Thorin on the back.

 

“Right good set of lungs they’ve got too...good for shouting orders once they’re older.”

 

Thorin and Balin laughed, although Thorin was still looking at the wall, this time waiting for the door to open, and for him to be invited inside to see his child, and to see Dis.

 

Thorin did not have long to wait until Oin emerged from the passageway that led to the bedrooms, a smile on his face.

 

“Congratulations, your majesty,” he greeted with a bow, “mother and babe are doing perfectly well...you can go and see them if you like.”

 

Thorin got to his feet, hesitating, chewing his lip uncertainly, suddenly fearful. Rolling his eyes, Dwalin gave Thorin’s back a solid push.

 

“Well, go on then,” he encouraged the king gruffly.  Shooting his friends an apprehensive look, Thorin walked past Oin, clapping him on the shoulder in thanks, before he walked towards his and Dís’ bedchamber.  In the doorway he froze, taking in the sight of the midwife, packing away things, and bustling about, the cradle, empty, sitting beside the bed, and Dís, lying in the bed, propped up on pillows, her face pale and her blonde hair loose and damp from sweat, gazing adoringly down at the bundle of blankets in her arms. 

 

Perhaps sensing Thorin’s presence, Dís looked up at him, her face splitting into a, albeit tired, smile.

 

“Thorin,” she greeted.  Hearing his name was all that Thorin needed to draw him to his wife’s bedside.  He sat on the bed beside Dís, kissing the top of her head as the midwife withdrew, pulling the door closed, giving the young family some semblance of privacy. Thorin looked in amazement at the bundle of blankets in Dís’ arms.

 

“You have a son...and heir,” Dís told him, and Thorin felt a tear run down his face as he took in the face of his child...his son, sound asleep in his mother’s arms.

 

“Can...can I?” Thorin asked shyly, unable to fully ask if he could hold his child...his son.  Dís nodded and slowly moved so she could transfer the baby into Thorin’s arms.  Thorin cradled his son close to his chest.

 

“He is so small,” Thorin whispered, “and fragile.”

 

“Oin has already weighed him...he is big, for a dwarf baby, but he is strong.  Did you hear him when he was crying?”

 

Thorin nodded, “Dwalin thinks that with lungs like that he’ll be good at giving orders when he is older.”

 

“Much older,” Dís said sternly, I don’t want him giving, or listening to, orders...especially military ones, until he’s quite grown up.”

 

Thorin nodded, unable to even contemplate losing his son like he had lost Frerin and Gíli, far too young.

 

“What shall we name him?” Dís asked.  Thorin studied the babe in his arms, thinking hard.  There were several possibilities, but at that moment Gíli and Frerin were forefront in his mind...the two young dwarves whose deaths had brought Thorin and Dís together.

 

“We should name him after his uncles.” Thorin told Dís, “They are the reason we met, after all.  Their legacy will live on in their nephew, and any other children we have.”

 

Dís’ eyes filled with tears, and she nodded, “It’s perfect, but how will we do it?   How can we honour both Frerin and Gíli?”

 

Thorin was deep in thought, watching his son as he slept in his arms, until a thought came to him.

 

“We take the first letter of Frerin’s name, and add it to Gíli’s name...Fíli.”

 

“Fíli, son of Thorin, Prince of Erebor...it’s perfect,” Dís smiled.  Thorin bent down and pressed his lips against Dís’

 

“I love you,” he said.  Dís nodded.

 

“I know...I love you to.  Now go, go show Balin and Dwalin their new Prince, I know they’re out there waiting, wanting to meet the newest member of the family.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, I want to sleep, and I can only sleep if I know Fíli is safe with you.” Dís rolled her eyes, before blinking sleepily.  Thorin nodded, kissing her once again.

 

“I will wait until you fall asleep,” he promised, cradling Fíli in his arms carefully.  Dís nodded, taking in the sight of Thorin, cradling their son in his arms.  While he looked and acted like a fierce warrior-king, Dís knew, just by watching Thorin hold Fíli, that Thorin was going to be a great father.  It was that knowledge that Dís focused on as she drifted off to a restful sleep.

 

Thorin watched as Dís fell asleep, obviously tired after her efforts of the day.  He bent down, kissing her head again, before getting up, ensuring that he was holding the baby right, before he strode from the room, back towards the main area of the house, where Balin and Dwalin were waiting.

 

Spotting Thorin, with the blanket bundle in his arms, and a smile on his face, the pair straightened.

 

“Balin, Dwalin, may I introduce Fíli, my son, and Erebor’s new prince.”

 

“Thorin, congratulations...Oin would not tell us what the baby’s gender was,” Balin said, “How is Dís?”

 

“She’s sleeping, but she seemed to be happy.” Thorin replied as Balin and Dwalin drew close so they could see the little babe in Thorin’s arms...their new prince.

 

“He has less hair than you, brother,” Balin told Dwalin, but Thorin scoffed.

 

“Ah, give him time, and he’ll have the most magnificent beard, won’t you Fíli?”

 

As if responding to his name the baby stirred in Thorin’s arms, a hand emerging from the blankets and closing around the edge of Thorin’s jacket.  Fíli looked around, gaze unfocused, before he nestled sleepily into Thorin’s chest.

 

“Hush, little Fíli, you are safe here.  No-one will ever hurt you...not while I’m here.  I promise that I will never let anything happen to you, my little one.” Thorin promised, speaking in a soft voice, rocking his feet slightly.  Fíli settled at the sound of his father’s voice, and went back to sleep, his grip on Thorin’s jacket loosening.

 

Watching on Balin smiled, taking in the sight of Thorin, cradling his son, making promises to protect him, obviously already besotted with the little boy.  He glanced at his brother, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

 

“Dwalin...are you crying?” Balin asked.   Dwalin stiffened, before swiping at his face, wiping away the moisture that had been rolling down his cheeks.  Balin looked at Thorin, who had torn his gaze from Fíli at Balin’s question, his eyes narrowing and a smirk forming on his features...a smirk that Balin hadn’t seen on Thorin in many years...the smirk that Thorin had perfected early in life, and that Frerin had, a few years later, made his own.

 

“You are...I saw them,” Thorin teased, before returning his attention to Fíli, “There you are my boy, proof that, even though he looks scary, your uncle Dwalin is a big softy.”

 

“Don’t go telling him that,” Dwalin protested, “I have a reputation...and the lad needs someone who is tough to look up to.”

 

Thorin raised his eyebrow at Dwalin, but the smirk on Dwalin’s face, combined with his own feelings at that precise moment, prevented Thorin from being inclined to scold the other dwarf for his cheek.

 

“As well as being a softy, he’s also an idiot,” he told Fíli, who continued to sleep quietly in his father’s arms. 

 

Balin chuckled at his brother’s expense, “At this rate, Fíli will have Dwalin worked out by the time he sprouts his first tooth.”

 

Thorin chuckled at Balin’s jest, and Dwalin pouted, even though he couldn’t bring himself to really care.  He was just happy to see Thorin so happy.

 

For the first time in years, things were looking up for the lost dwarves of Erebor.

 

 


	3. Battle Wounds

Beads of sweat ran down Thorin’s neck, beneath his collar and down his back, drenching his already saturated undershirt.  The Dwarven king, however, couldn’t bring himself to care, and he kept working hard at the forge, hammering at the sword he was crafting.  Around him, Balin and Dwalin bustled around, the three of them knowing, after such a long time, how to work together without getting in each other’s road.

 

Thorin actually enjoyed working as a blacksmith.  There was something meaningful about creating something new...something that might make a difference in someone’s life, be it a new blade for a plough or some horseshoes, or a sword, like the one he was crafting with skill and precision.

 

It was getting late, the sun low in the sky, but Thorin still worked hard, wanting to finish the sword before the end of the day’s work.  Finally he set his hammer down, and put the sword into a barrel of water to cool, before setting it aside to dry by the heat of the forge, before being put away with the rest of the day’s work.  Thorin pulled off his thick gloves, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and walked to the open door to the Forge, looking out at the night, admiring the sunset.

 

Around them, the other store holders were packing up for the day, locking up their businesses and stores, and heading off to their homes.  Many of them smiled and waved, or inclined their heads politely when they saw Thorin.  Thorin knew almost all of them, having all worked side by side ever since Ered Luin had been settled, almost ten years before.  Many of them had families, and dwarf children, some of whom were about Fíli’s age, and who Thorin’s son played with, under the supervision of Dís and a few of the other dwarf women.

 

Thorin smiled when he thought of his little, golden haired, baby boy.  Not so much of a baby now, but a toddler, getting into all sorts of mischief and amazingly quick on his feet.  Fíli was five years old, as he liked to tell anyone who would listen, and Thorin had been surprised by how quickly the years had passed.  It still only seemed like yesterday when he had cradled a newborn Fíli to his chest, promising to protect him from harm.

 

With every day that had passed since then Fíli had grown to resemble his mother and her brother.  He had Thorin’s nose, and there were elements of Thorin in his face, but Thorin could tell Fíli was going to end up most closely resembling Gíli.  Thorin didn’t mind...in fact, he was grateful that Fíli hadn’t inherited Thorin’s distinctive features.  If he did, and something happened and he was kidnapped, it would be much more difficult to pass Fíli off as an ordinary dwarf, and not a member of the line of Durin...Not the heir of Thorin Oakenshield himself.

 

Thorin was drawn from his musings by the sound of horns being sounded, and the smile abruptly fell from his face.  He knew what those horns meant.  The settlement was under attack.  Turning back to the forge Thorin collected his sword from where it was kept, relieved to see that Balin and Dwalin had done the same with their own weaponry.

 

Together, the three ran into the streets, towards the edges of the town.  Thorin heard the sounds of dwarven boots, and knew the rest of his people had heard the warning, and all those who could fight were joining them, ready to defend their homes.

 

Thorin was the first to spot the small army of about fifty orcs, running towards the village, and let out a roar, charging towards them, drawing his sword and refusing to even contemplate the thought of the orcs getting any closer to the village...of them getting any closer to Dís and Fíli.

 

Behind him Thorin heard Balin and Dwalin take up the battle cry, and the other dwarves, give battle cries of their own, echoing him, before charging at the orcs, weapons drawn and ready.

 

Thorin hit the orcs with force, taking the head clean off the first orc he met with one swing of his sword.  He quickly cut a thick line through the orcs, Balin and Dwalin flanking him on both sides, watching his back and protecting one another’s as well.

 

The orcs at the front weren’t well trained, but the orcs to the rear of the attacking force were larger, and were better trained, better armoured, and stronger.  The falling darkness did not help matters, and Thorin found that the fighting was getting difficult.  Still, he refused to slow down...to risk his family’s life by letting an ordinary band of orcs get the better of him.  A quick glance around told him that the other dwarves were fighting just as hard.  Well over half the orcs lay on the ground, dead or mortally injured.

 

“Thorin,” Thorin turned at the sound of his name, and duck, just in time to avoid having his head taken off.  He struck out with his sword, plunging it deep into the chest of the orc responsible, before he pulled it out, spinning to attack again...

 

Only not expecting to see the Orc behind him, until it was too late.

 

Searing pain erupted in Thorin abdomen, and he gasped, almost doubling over in pain, before remembering that he was in the middle of a battle, and bringing up his sword just in time.  He killed the orc that had cut him, before he raised his left arm, touching where it was the most painful.  His hand came away drenched in blood, and Thorin scowled, straightening and forcing himself to ignore the pain...the ebbing weakness as his lifeblood drained from his body.

 

It wasn’t the first time Thorin had carried on fighting after being injured, and he hoped it would not be the last.  He knew that his movements were slower than normal, his blocks and parries weaker, but it was all he could do to keep going...to protect his people, to protect Dís and Fíli. 

 

Still, when Thorin killed an orc, and looked around, seeing no more Orcs standing, and few that were injured, and were being finished off by other dwarves, he let out a groan and dropped heavily to his knees.

 

“Thorin,” Dwalin yelled, dropping to his knees beside Thorin, supporting Thorin’s weight from behind.  Thorin blinked, knowing from the way his vision was greying...the way the world kept tilting, that the blood loss was worse than he had thought. 

 

“Balin, get Oin...Thorin’s hurt,” Dwalin ordered, and Balin nodded, running to find the healer, leaving Thorin and Dwalin behind.

 

“You stay with me,” Dwalin mutters, ripping his shirt and using it to put pressure on Thorin’s wound, “No going to sleep, you hear?”

 

Thorin nodded, knowing that he needed to stay awake...even though he felt exhaustion nipping at his heels.

 

“The orcs?” Thorin asked.

 

“All dead...none of them got close to the village.”

 

“Good,” Thorin nodded, wincing in pain as Dwalin pressed harder against the wound.

 

“Don’t worry, Oin’s coming, he’ll get you patched up in no time.”

 

Thorin grunted, letting his head lean back against Dwalin.  Not surviving this skirmish had never been an option as far as Thorin was concerned...not with the secret Dís had sworn him to keep in his chest, waiting for the opportune moment to bust out.

 

Dís was pregnant, Thorin was going to have a second child, and Fíli would become a big brother.  It was still early days, and Dís had made Thorin promise not to tell anyone until she thought things were a little more advanced.

 

Thorin knew what had brought Dís’ caution on.  The previous winter one of Dís’ best friends had been with child, but she had lost the baby, and the pitying looks she had been given afterwards had made the poor woman feel even worse, according to Dis.  Thorin, for his part, wanting to announce it to his closest friends and advisors, but he respected Dís’ wishes.

 

A glance up at Dwalin’s concerned face, however, told Thorin that his survival wasn’t assured, and fear stabbed at his heart.

 

“Dwalin...you have to protect Dís and Fíli...If something happens to me you have to look after them.  Dís she...she will need your help...and Balin’s”

 

“Thorin...I don’t want to hear it.  You are not going to die.  Stop talking like that.”

 

“Promise me,” Thorin said, a hint of desperation seeping into his voice.  Dwalin tightened his grip on Thorin when he realised his King was literally begging him to make the promise.

 

“I promise I will look after them...but they aren’t going to need me...they’re going to have you.”

 

“I hope so,” Thorin admitted.  For so long he had been prepared to meet his death, but now his life was finally coming together...things were going well for once, and Thorin wanted to be alive to keep things coming.  He wanted to see his second child.  He wanted to see Fíli and his brother or sister grow up.  He wanted to be their when they picked up a sword for the first time...to braid their hair for them, to tell them stories and sing to them about Erebor.

 

“Thorin!” It was Balin’s voice, and Thorin forced himself to move his head, albeit sluggishly towards his fired, relived to see Oin and Gloin accompanying him.  Upon seeing his leader Oin immediately got to work, examining the wound.  Thorin fought the urge to look at the wound when Oin carefully lifted the rough improvised bandage Dwalin was using, knowing from experience that it was never a wise idea.     

 

Oin frowned, “We need to get him inside.  The bleeding has slowed, but I fear the chance of infection is high...orcs never keep their swords clean.” 

 

“I sent some of the younger dwarves to fetch stretchers for the injured,” Gloin told his brother, who nodded, knowing that between Thorin and the other injured dwarves, he was going to have a busy few days.

 

Thorin blinked wearily, noticing that it was getting harder to stay awake.  He tried to focus on Oin’s face, but his vision greyed and blurred alarmingly, and his head felt too heavy to hold up anymore.  Thorin let his head lean back against Dwalin’s chest, and it lolled to the side.

 

“Thorin...Thorin...wake up,” Dwalin said, giving Thorin’s arm a shake.  Thorin groaned, blinking up at Dwalin.

 

“Protect them?” Thorin asked.

 

It was Dwalin’s turn to blink, “Always...you don’t have to ask.”

 

Thorin didn’t reply, instead his eyes slid closed, and he went limp, unable to fight off unconsciousness any longer.

 

“Thorin?  Thorin!  Wake up!  Don’t even think about dying like this,” Dwalin yelled in alarm.  Frowning Oin reached out, taking Thorin’s wrist.  He waited a moment, before nodding.

 

“It’s all right, Dwalin, he is merely resting.  This is Thorin we’re talking about; he has had far worse wounds before and lived to tell the tale.  I imagine that, providing we stave off any infection, he will make a full recovery.”

 

“Has anyone told Dís?” Dwalin asked, and Balin and Gloin exchanged guilty looks.

 

‘You stay here, with him, and I’ll go tell her.” Balin said, rising to his feet.  Dwalin nodded.  Balin and Dís got along well...and someone needed to tell her before they carried Thorin, unconscious through her door 

 

Balin ran as fast as he could up the hill to the village, skirting around the marketplace, and heading towards Thorin’s home.  Thorin and Dís’ house set a little away from others, so it took awhile.  Balin was relieved to note that there was no evidence of the orcs ever having made it this far.  It seemed that the orcs he, Dwalin and Thorin had encountered had been the extent of the attacking force.  He knocked on Dís’ front door, and Dís was quick to answer it, Fíli in his arms.  The boy was dressed for bed, and had his head resting sleepily on his mother’s shoulder.

 

“Balin...what happened, we heard the horns?” Dís asked, anxious for news as she stepped aside to let Balin in.  Balin sighed, crossing the threshold and waiting for Dís to close the door before replying.

 

“A group of about fifty orcs, some heavily armoured and well trained...possibly from the Blue Mountains...we’ve had some problems with orcs from there recently.  We were able to fight them off...we had superior numbers...and Thorin wasn’t going to let any orc anywhere near you and the lad.”

 

“Where is he?” Dís asked, running her fingers through Fíli’s blonde hair.

 

“He got hurt...Oin thinks he’ll be fine, barring an infection, but he was unconscious when I left”

 

Dís nodded, fighting the urge to sob.  After so many years she was used to Thorin’s habit of getting injured, but it still made her heart pound in her chest every time it happened.  How close had it been this time, she wondered, resisting the desire to rub her belly, where Thorin’s second child lay.  Balin was observant, he would notice, and Dís was too frightened to let anyone other than Thorin know for now.  Fíli didn’t even know about his younger brother or sister yet.

 

“What’s wrong, Mama?” Fíli asked, “Where’s Papa?”

 

“He’ll be back soon, Fíli...He just had to deal with the orcs.”

 

“The horns...they told papa that there were orcs, didn’t they?”

 

“Yes, that’s right, they did,” Dís nodded.

 

“Is papa okay?”

 

Dís hesitated,” No...Not right now...but he will be...soon.  It just means that you’ll have to be extra quiet, okay.  No jumping up on papa wanting a story until he gets better or you might accidently hurt him.”

 

Fíli nodded, “Okay,” he whispered, “I can be quiet, and I’ll be good and look after you, mama...until papa gets better, and he can look after you again.”

 

“An excellent idea, Fíli,” Balin smiled, “I’m sure your papa would be very proud of you if you looked after your mama for him.”

 

“Listen, Fíli, how about you go to bed...I’m sure you must be very tired, it’s past your bed time, and tomorrow morning, depending on how papa is feeling, you can sit with him, and he might tell you a story,” Dís offered.  Fíli, who thankfully was an obedient child, most of the time, nodded.

 

“Since he’s here, can Uncle Balin tell me a bed time story?” Fíli asked, yawning.  Dís forced a smile.

 

“I don’t know, would that be alright with Uncle Balin?” Dís asked, and Balin nodded.

 

‘I would be honoured to, Fíli.”

 

Fíli beamed, and Dís set him down on the floor.  Balin took Fíli hand and led him down the passageway to Fíli’s room, leaving Dís alone in the main living area of her and Thorin’s home.  The moment Fíli and Balin were out of sight, and earshot, Dís let out the sob that had been building within her ever since Balin had told her that Thorin was injured, her hand going to her still flat stomach.  Thorin could have missed out on ever seeing his second child...she could have had to raise both of her boys alone, although she would doubtlessly have help from others, such as Balin and Dwalin, and Thorin’s other friends. 

 

Thorin’s death would mean that Fíli, at the age of five, would become the rightful king of Erebor (presumably, since no-one was really sure if Thrain, Thorin’s father, was alive or dead).  Even though Erebor had been lost to Smaug, the role of king was still a heavy mantle, and Dís couldn’t imagine pinning the title and the attached responsibilities on anyone anywhere close to Fili’s age.  She had seen the steady wearing down the title had on Thorin, who had carried it ever since Thrain’s departure and she didn’t want to see her little boy subjected to the same pressure...not so early into his life anyway.

 

Dís heard a noise outside, and glanced out a window, spotting Dwalin, Gloin, and Oin coming up the road, baring a stretcher between them, and she hurried to open the door, letting them straight in.  Her eyes fell on Thorin’s pale face, and her heart leapt into her mouth.

 

“He’s alright lass,” Oin told her comfortingly, “Dwalin did a good job of keeping pressure on the wound, so the bleeding as stopped.  I’d say Thorin will be his usually, cheerful self in no time.”

 

Dís nodded, forcing herself to take a deep, steadying breath as she followed the others into her and Thorin’s bedroom, where they transferred him into their bed.  Thorin stirred at the movement, mumbled something and then went back to sleep.  Oin nodded in approval.

 

“That’s fine.  I want to clean the wound, and I know I would rather be unconscious already if someone was about to do that to me.”

 

Dwalin snorted, pulling Dís into a comforting hug, rubbing her back soothingly while Gloin helped his brother clean Thorin up and clean his wound, before going to the kitchen to prepare a special herb blend that would help with any pain Thorin felt. 

 

Eventually Dís and Dwalin were joined by Balin, who reported that Fíli was sound asleep in his room.  Dís hugged him in gratitude for looking after her son, knowing full well that she wouldn’t have been able to reassure Fíli about his father’s wellbeing while she was still worried sick about Thorin herself.

 

Oin stepped back, and turned to face Dis.

 

“Well, I’d say he’s settled for tonight.  I’ve cleaned the wound as much as I can, and I put some salve on it to protect and fight against infection.  I imagine he’ll sleep for the rest of the night, and possible tomorrow morning as well.  If he develops a fever or if there are any signs of infection come and find me.”

 

Dís nodded and hugged Oin, “Thank you for looking after him...I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost him.”

 

“It’s quite alright, your highness...don’t you forget to have a rest as well, alright...you’ve got the little one to look after as well as Thorin...you’ll need your strength.”

 

“Don’t worry, Oin,” Dwalin said, putting his arm around Dís’ shoulder, “She’s got help.”

 

“I am glad.  I will see you about midday, if not before, to change Thorin’s bandages and to check up on him.

 

Oin and Gloin left, taking their things with them, and Dwalin and Balin decided that it was a good time to go and collect what they would need, having both wordlessly decided that they would be staying with Dís until Thorin was back on his feet.  Alone, at last, with Thorin, Dís sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through Thorin’s hair.

 

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

 

Thorin didn’t reply, and Dís sat in silence holding his hand and running her fingers through Thorin’s hair, watching over him until the others returned.  By then it was late, and the long day was catching up to her...she always seemed to be tired these days, thanks to the new life she had growing within her.  So she wouldn’t disturb Thorin Dís went and slept beside Fíli, holding her eldest son close to her, until she fell sound asleep, unable to keep her eyes open any longer.

 

THE HOBBIT

 

Thorin groaned as he slowly returned to consciousness, his eyelids struggling to open.  Eventually, though, he mastered them, and he looked about, recognising his and Dis’s room.  Dís herself was sitting beside him, holding onto his hand, smiling at him.

 

“Thorin...thank goodness you’re alright.  I was so afraid,” she said, leaning over and kissing him.  Thorin blinked, everything coming back...the orc attack, the wound...all of it.

 

“Fíli?” he asked.  Dís smiled.

 

“Dwalin has taken him for a walk to the market to go and get some food for dinner.  He will be happy to hear that you’ve woken up,” Dís told him.

 

“How long has it been?”

 

“The attack was last night, and it is mid afternoon now.  Oin did not seem concerned with how much you slept.

 

Thorin nodded, beginning to move in the bed, but wincing when his stomach throbbed in pain.

 

“Oin also recommended that, when you do wake up, you shouldn’t move around.”

 

Thorin sniffed, “Since when have I ever listened to Oin’s advice?”

 

“Well, that is true.  At least now we know it is you, and not an imposter.” Dís teased.  Thorin smiled at her, before taking her hand in his own, tugging on it.  Dís bent over, and Thorin carefully reached up, cupping the back of her head so he could pull her down and kiss her.

 

“I love you,” he told her, “Are you alright?” Thorin’s gaze dropped, and Dís knew he was talking about their baby.

 

“Yes...Fíli was a proper gentleman this morning, and held my hair back for me when I was...purging my stomach.  He promised last night that he would take care of me for you while you were hurt, but I didn’t think he would actually take it that far.”

 

Thorin laughed, although he stopped quickly due to the pain, “How did you explain that to him,”

 

“I told him that my dinner was disagreeing with me, and not to worry...but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s telling Dwalin about it right now.”

 

“So...can we tell people yet?” Thorin asked.  Dís smiled when she saw the hopeful look on Thorin’s face.  She sighed, knowing that Thorin had been itching to tell people the moment she had found out.

 

“Yes...It’s been a few more weeks, I daresay we should announce it...I’m probably going to be showing soon anyway...although we need to tell Fíli first...it’s his baby brother or sister after all.”

 

“Agreed,” Thorin nodded, unable to wipe his smile off his face.  Dís bent down and kissed him again.

 

“You’re hopeless,” she told Thorin, who quirked an eyebrow at her.

 

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way,” Thorin replied.

 

“Of course,” Dís smiled, before their lips met once again.


	4. Kili

Thorin hurried up to the front door of the home he and Dís shared, opening the door and closing it quickly behind him, hoping to keep the driving rain out.  Overhead thunder rumbled loudly, and Thorin shook his head slowly, raindrops running down his nose and ripping from his hair.  Looking around, he noticed that the main living area of the house was deserted...which was unusual.  Usually Fíli would come running at the sound of the opening door, and Dís would be preparing dinner, ready to greet him with a kiss.

 

Removing his heavy, waterlogged coat, Thorin draped it over a chair near the fire, which was crackling merrily, and walked towards the rear of the house, smiling when he heard the distinct sound of small feet running towards him.

 

“Papa, papa,” Fíli greeted when he saw Thorin, throwing himself into Thorin’s arms.  Thorin caught his son, frowning at the fearful expression on his son’s face.

 

“Fíli...what is it, what’s wrong.”

 

“Its mama...she says her tummy hurts, and she’s crying,” Fíli told him, obviously close to tears himself.  Thorin felt ice grip his heart at Fíli’s words, and he strode forward.

 

“Where is she, Fíli?”

 

“My room...she was tidying up the baby’s things.”

 

Thorin strode into Fíli’s room, setting Fíli back onto the floor when he saw Dís, bracing herself against the wooden dresser that held Fíli’s clothes, one hand wrapped around her swollen stomach.  Thorin strode across the room to her side.

 

“Dís?  What’s wrong?” Thorin asked, wrapping a supportive arm around her back. 

 

Dís turned tearful, wide eyes towards him, “The baby...it’s coming...but it’s too early...I should have another month.” She said, and the icy feeling in Thorin’s chest tightened as he comprehended the consequences of Dís’ words.  .

 

“Fili, get your coat on, and your boots,” he ordered, and Fíli immediately obeyed, pulling on his heavy boots and throwing his coat on over his shoulders.  Thorin crouched down in front of his son, tenderly pulling Fíli’s hood up over his head to protect the prince’s head from the heavy rain that still fell from the darkening sky.

 

“Do you remember how to get to Oin’s house?” Thorin asked.  He knew that he and Dís had made a point of making sure that Fíli knew how to get to Oin’s house from his own, just in case something like this happened.  Fíli nodded, his eyes wide.

  
“I want you to go there and get Oin...what are you supposed to do if no-one is there?”

 

“Go to Uncle Balin and Dwalin’s house, and get them,” Fíli replied, remembering what his father had taught him. 

 

Thorin nodded, “That’s right...you go and get Oin...I’ll stay here and look after mama.  Go quickly, but carefully, it’s very wet outside.”

 

Fíli nodded, and sped out the door.  Thorin stayed on his knees, closing his eyes when he heard the front door open, and then shut again, before he rose to his feet once again, arm going around Dís’ shoulders.

 

‘It’ll be alright, Dís,” he comforted as thunder rumbled overhead once again.  Dís sniffed and nodded, before she moaned in pain.

 

“He’ll be like you...no patience,” she muttered when the pain had passed, and Thorin forced himself to smile.

 

“He’s a dwarf, Dís...We’re not known for being the most patient of races.”

 

“That’s true,”  Dís smiled, letting go of the dresser and letting Thorin guide her out of the room Fíli would share with the new baby, once the baby was a little bigger, and into their own room.

 

They were halfway across the room when Dis tensed again, gripping tightly on Thorin’s arm.  Thorin was sure that he would have bruises from the vice like grip, but he said nothing, knowing that what Dís was going through was a lot worse.

 

“It’s alright, Dís,” Thorin whispered reassuringly into her ear, “Fíli will get Oin, and everything will be alright.  I bet by dawn we’ll have our new baby in our arms, and he, or she, will be perfect.”

 

Dís nodded, leaning her head against Thorin’s shoulder wearily.  She was tired, it had been difficult, being pregnant and having an energetic son like Fíli at the same time.  While it was true that Fíli was a good lad, he was still a child, and he had the boundless energy to prove it. 

 

Other members of their community had been helpful, helping Dís with chores around the house, or by looking after Fíli for a few hours during the afternoons so Dís could do some sewing, or have a sleep.  Thorin too had done his part, working hard when he was at work so that when he came home he could spend time with her and Fíli, and so he wouldn’t actually have to go to work as often.  The last few weeks, instead of working at the forge five or six days of the week, Thorin was only working four, and on the fourth day he was often home by lunchtime so he could spend the afternoon playing with Fíli, giving Dís the opportunity to rest.   

 

Thorin guided Dís to the bed, and they sat, side by side, on the edge.  Thorin kept on hand rubbing Dís’ back, but the other hand dropped so it was rubbing he stomach soothingly.  Dís leaned against Thorin’s side with a moan as her fingers met his on her stomach.  Thorin took her hand in his and gave a reassuring squeeze and Dís looked up at Thorin.  Lowering his head he pressed his mouth to hers.  Dís gave herself into the kiss, until another contraction caused her to cry out in pain.

 

“Just so you know...you are not coming anywhere near me for awhile,” she told Thorin, who nodded in acceptance.  Dís had said much the same thing when she was pregnant with Fíli.

 

Thorin heard the front door open once again as thunder rumbled overhead.

 

“Mama, Papa!” Fíli called.

 

“Back here,” Thorin yelled, and he heard hurried footsteps...too heavy to be Fíli’, approaching the bedroom.  Relief flooded Thorin when he saw Oin standing in the doorway to Thorin and Dís’ room

 

“Oin,” Thorin greeted as the other dwarf approached the couple.

 

‘Thorin...Dís,” Oin greeted, putting his bag down on a table and approaching Dís, “Dís, dear, are you sure this is it...and not a false alarm?”

 

Dís nodded, “It feels the same as it did last time...but it’s too early, isn’t it?”

 

Oin sighed, “Yes, it is earlier than I would have liked...but you’re advanced enough into the pregnancy that there is a good chance of the child surviving.”

 

Dís sobbed, and Thorin tightened his grip on her.  He knew that he would have to leave soon...it went against dwarvish custom to have the father in the room when a baby was being born.  Thorin had been told that his own father hadn’t seen either of his children until they were a few days old.

 

“Thorin,” Dís moaned as she tensed yet again, “go look after Fíli, he must be terrified.”

 

“What about you?” Thorin asked. 

 

Dís smiled reassuringly, “I’ll be fine...Oin will look after the baby and I.  You go and look after Fíli.”

 

Thorin nodded, getting to his feet, but not before going in for one last, prolonged kiss.  Both he and Dís were a little breathless when they pulled apart.

 

“I love you,” Thorin told Dis.

 

“I love you too...go.” she told him, and Thorin left the room, closing the door behind him.  He walked into the large living area, and instantly spotted Fíli, tears running down his face in the arms of Balin.

 

“Papa,” Fíli called, and Balin set him down on the floor.  Thorin knelt, and held out his arms, and Fíli raced across the room, throwing himself into his father’s arms.

 

‘It’s alright, Fíli...you did a good job.” Thorin praised his son, holding him in a tight embrace.

 

“Is mama okay?”

 

“Yes...she’ll be fine.  Your little brother or sister is coming, that’s all.”

 

Fíli cheered, “When will I get to meet him...or her.”

 

“When he or she is born...it’ll be awhile yet.” Thorin told him.  Fíli pouted, but snuggled close to Thorin as Thorin got to his feet, shooting an enquiring look at Balin and Dwalin, who stood near the door.

 

“We were dining with Oin and Gloin when Fíli knocked on the door.  We thought you might be in some need of company.  Gloin was just going to go and get some extra things that Oin didn’t have on hand, and fetch Greta of course, and then he is going to join us.” Balin explained calmly.  Thorin nodded, knowing that, if Fíli’s birth was anything to go by, he would appreciate the company.  Greta was the same midwife who had helped bring Fíli into the world, an elderly dwarf, who had also helped Thorin’s mother deliver Frerin, and had assisted Dis’ mother with Dís and Gíli.

 

Thorin sat in his chair by the fire, still holding Fíli close, and Dwalin and Balin made themselves comfortable.  Fili curled into Thorin, both father and son watching the flickering of flames in the fireplace.

 

“Will the baby look like me?” Fili asked, breaking the silence.

 

“Probably not at first, but maybe, when he or she is a little bigger,” Thorin told him, “when they are very small babies don’t really look like anyone.  Sometimes they take after a parent, for example, from the day you were born, your nose has always been like mine, but it’s easier to tell when they get bigger.

 

Fíli sat in silence in Thorin’s lap for a little while longer, before he shifted slightly.

 

“Um, papa?” he asked.

 

“What is it, Fili?”

 

“Mama didn’t get to make dinner...and I’m hungry.”

 

Thorin mentally slapped himself in the head.  He had noticed, after all, that Dís hadn’t begun to cook their evening meal, so of course Fíli hadn’t eaten his evening meal.  Now that Thorin thought about it, he was quite hungry as well.

 

“Ah, don’t worry lad, Gloin is going to bring up what we hadn’t finished...a nice, hearty stew, just perfect for a stormy night like this” Dwrlin told them, and Thorin relaxed, relived that he didn’t have to worry about cooking.  Although he could cook, to a certain extent, he wasn’t very good at it, and Thorin knew it was better if someone else prepared the food for their evening meal.

 

Not long after that there was a knock on the door, and Balin went and answered it, letting in Gloin and Greta, the latter of whom inclined her head politely at Thorin, before carrying some supplies towards Dís’ room.  Gloin, for his part, put a large pot over the fire, and began carefully stirring it.  Thorin inhaled, and the delicious smell of cooking meat reached him.  Fíli imitated him, and his stomach rumbled loudly.  Thorin laughed and kissed the top of his son’s head.

 

“I think someone is hungry,” he told the others, who laughed, pleased to see that Fíli was helping his father to relax.

 

It didn’t take long for the stew to be warmed, and they all went and sat at the table, Thorin and Fíli both eating hungrily.  Balin did the washing up, while Gloin and Dwalin sat with Thorin and Fili, watching the fire. 

 

“Papa...can you tell me a story?” Fili asked from where he sat, curled in Thorin’s lap.  Thorin considered it, before nodding.  Who knew how long this would take, and it would be better if Fíli was asleep, otherwise he was going to be grumpy the next day.

 

“Which one?” Thorin asked.

 

“One about you and your brother...uncle Frerin.” Fíli requested.  Thorin’s heart clenched in the way that it always did when someone mentioned his little brother’s name, but he forced himself to nod.

 

“Alright.  Let’s see,” Thorin said thoughtfully, searching his memories of a story of Frerin and Thorin that would not give Fíli nightmares.  Finally he settled on a memory, smiling ruefully as he thought of it.

 

“One day, when Frerin was about your age, and I was about ten or eleven years old, we did not have anything to do.  This was when we were living at Erebor, and things were plentiful  We were too young to start learning to use weaponry, and I liked to think I was too old to spend the day playing around my mother’s skirts, so Frerin and I decided to go exploring.  Erebor is very large, and there are lots of dark passages.  Frerin and I thought we would go and visit the mines, and we took a couple of what we thought were shortcuts.  Well, of course, we got very lost, and had no idea where we were.”

 

“Were you scared?” Fili asked. 

 

“Only that something would happen to Frerin,” Thorin replied, so I took his hand, and we started walking, trying to find our way out.  We must have been walking for hours, when we stumbled into a large cavern.  It was huge, bigger than this house.  There a underground river, and we both had a drink, being careful not to fall in, since we’d missed lunch, and hadn’t thought to bring water or any food with us.  By this point Frerin was tired, and bored, and he found a loose stone and threw it at the wall.  That was when the screeching started.  I’d never heard a sound like it.  In the cavern it echoed and it sounded like it was coming from everywhere.”

 

Fili’s eye were wide, “what was it...was it orcs?”

 

“Thankfully no,” Thorin said reassuringly, “it wasn’t orcs.  We looked around, and couldn’t find the source of the noise...and then we looked up, and we saw them.”

 

“Them?” Fili asked.  Thorin smirked.

 

“Bats, hundreds and hundreds of bats, hanging upside down from the ceiling, screeching at us.  Frerin’s rock had disturbed them, and they were not happy with us.”

 

“Did they try and eat you?” Fili asked, his eyes wide. 

 

Thorin smiled and shook his head, “No...Bats don’t like to eat dwarves, but I didn’t know that then.  I grabbed Frerin, pushed him to the ground, and covered him with my body, ready to protect him from the bats...and nothing happened.  They all flew out.  Frerin and I followed them for a bit, and that was where we found the way out.  There was a gap in the mountainside that the bats had been using to get in and out, and Frerin and I were small enough to fit.  Then we were able to walk around to the front gates of the city, and were let back in.  It was night time by then though, and we got in a lot of trouble for wondering off on our own, even though we didn’t get hurt.  There are so many dangers out there, and even if we think that we’re old enough to face them, sometimes we forget that if we’re with someone younger, they might not be...even if they say they are.”

 

“You were a good big brother, weren’t you papa,” Fíli asked, sleepily. 

 

Thorin hesitated, “when I was younger I was...but sometimes I think that when I was older I didn’t do such a good job.”

 

“That’s okay Papa,” Fíli told him, looking up at his father reassuringly, “I promise that I’ll always be a good big brother...just like you were for uncle Frerin when you were little.  I’ll protect my little brother or sister from everything...even if they aren’t going to eat us.”

 

“I couldn’t ask anything more from you, Fíli,” Thorin whispered, gently kissing the top of Fíli’s head, “Now go to sleep.  I’ll wake you if something happens.”

 

Fili nodded, before going to sleep in Thorin’s arms, snoring softly.  Thorin held Fíli safe, watching the flickering of flames, lost in his thoughts about Frerin, and how they had grown up together.  Now it was time for Fíli to be the big brother, and Thorin prayed that Fíli would never have to go through the same pain as he had...the pain of losing a much loved younger sibling...a sibling who had barely begun his life.  Not a single day went past without Thorin’s thoughts lingering on his brother, and how Thorin could have prevented his brother’s untimely death by better watching him on the battlefield.  Nothing Balin, Dwalin, or Dís could ever say could rid Thorin of his own guilt over what happened, both to Frerin, and to Gíli, Dís’ dear older brother and Frerin’s closest friend.

 

In his father’s arms Fíli stirred and Thorin kissed the top of his sons head, carding his fingers through Fíli’s thick blonde hair, so much like Dís’ own.  No, Thorin thought to himself, as long as he was alive, he would do all he could to protect Fíli from that pain...even if it meant Thorin’s own death 

 

 The night dragged on, Thorin cringing every time he heard Dís’ muffled yells of pain through the wall.  Fíli slept soundly, a blanket draped over him to keep the chill of the night away.  It was late in autumn, and Thorin guessed that the first snows of the season would not be far away.  It would be essential, Thorin knew, to keep the house warm once the baby was born, especially during the long, cold, winter months, when the baby would be too small to keep itself warm.  It was a dangerous time of the year for a baby to be born, but Thorin had faith in his unborn child.  Despite their early arrival he or she would be strong.  They would be a child of Durin...a child of the king of Erebor, and that meant that their blood would be thick, and the child strong...at least, Thorin hoped so...unable to contemplate the pain it would inflict on Dís and Fíli, as well as himself, if something happened to the baby.

 

At the thought Thorin unconsciously drew Fíli a little closer to his chest.  Fíli let out a soft snore, still sleeping soundly, worn out by the excitement earlier in the evening.  Thorin envied his son...wishing his mind would slow down enough to allow his a short rest, but he simply could not relax, his mind filled with things Thorin would need to do once the baby had been born, and with possibilities for the future

      

Despite his frenzied thoughts, Thorin eventually felt exhaustion dragging him under and he let his eyes drift shut, Fíli still firmly wrapped in Thorin’s arms, buried beneath Thorin’s fur lined cloak.  Thorin’s sleep, however, was short lived, when he startled awake at a particularly loud scream from Dis.  Blinking, he looked at Balin, who was watching him with a supportive, oddly comforting look on his face.  Dwalin and Gloin had fallen asleep, and were both snoring heavily, perhaps trying to drown each other out, while Fíli was still sleeping soundly in Thorin’s arms.

 

“How long was I asleep for,” Thorin asked.

 

Balin shook his head, reassuringly, “Not long, less than an hour...there hasn’t been any news.  Although the night is over half over, dawn is still some time away.”

 

Thorin nodded, glancing at the fire, which was still burning happily.  Balin must have stoked it and put fresh wood on it while Thorin was asleep.

 

Thorin felt guilt well up within him.  He couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep while Dís was...experiencing what she was going through.  He should be doing something, but experience told Thorin that there was nothing he could do at this point.  Everything rested on the shoulders of Dís, and those assisting her. 

 

At the thought, there was another muffle yell, and Dwalin grunted in his sleep, before letting out a particularly loud snore, accompanied by an equally loud fart.  Balin narrowed his eyes in distaste at his brother as Dwalin continued to sleep, oblivious to his brother’s ire.  Thorin, however, snorted in amusement, trying to ignore the knowledge that Balin had give him...that Dís had been labouring with his child for such a long time.  Already, by comparison, it had taken far longer than Fíli’s birth had.

 

“It’ll be over soon, lad,” Balin told Thorin, obviously sensing where Thorin’s mind had strayed to, “You’ll have the new little one soon.”

 

“I hope so,” Thorin anxiously commented, knowing full well that Dís’ strength, although immense, had its limitations.  Thorin remembered, with a shudder, the first winter after the Dwarves had fled from Smaug and Erebor, as well as the many that followed until the dwarves had established their home at Ered Luin.  Many dwarf women died on the road attempting to give birth to their children, and Thorin had seen countless families, considered to be lucky because they were still together after everything, being ripped apart by the deaths of so many mothers.

 

There was another pained wail, and Thorin rocked in his chair, lowering his head to rest on top of Fili’s hair.  He was dimly aware of the sound of boots creaking as Balin got to his feet, but he did not raise his head until he felt Balin rest his hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

 

“Thorin...you know that you have our support...You aren’t alone in this.  Despite their...currant state, Dwalin and Gloin are here for you, as am I.   I am certain that Oin and Greta are doing everything they can to help Dís and the little one, and Fíli,” Balin smiled, gently ruffling the young dwarf’s already mussed hair, “he has everyone’s love.   You all do.”

 

Thorin nodded, “I know,” he told Balin, “but it still reassures me to hear it.  Thank you for being such a supportive friend and advisor, Balin.  I know I can be stubborn at times...a lot of the time, but I appreciate everything that you and Dwalin and the others do to help Dís and I, and the rest of our peoples.  I know that Dís appreciates it as well.”

 

Balin tightened his grip slightly on Thorin’s shoulder, before going back to sit beside his brother and Gloin.  Thorin watched the flames as they flickered, licking at the wood that Balin placed there.

 

It was not long after Balin sat back down that Thorin heard Dís’ next cry.  He swallowed, wishing he could do something to hurry things up...to make both Dís, and their unborn child, safe, before he froze as he heard the cry of a baby.

 

Thorin closed his eyes, muttering a quick prayer of thanks to his forefathers.  It was over, the baby was born.  He had a second child, and Fíli, the little boy, still sound asleep in his arms, was an older brother.

 

Balin seized the opportunity, and kicked Dwalin hard in the shin.

  
“What...what’s going on, I agree with Balin,” Dwalin startled awake, while Balin and Thorin just looked on.  Balin patted his younger brother on the shoulder.

 

“Relax, Brother, Dís has birthed her child.”

 

“Oh,” Dwalin relaxed, before smiling at Thorin, “Congratulations, your highness,”    

 

“Thank you,” Thorin smiled, glancing down at Fíli, still sound asleep, and kissed the top of his eldest child’s head, not wanting to wake him until it was the right time for Fíli to meet his new sibling, and to see his mother.

 

Within minutes Thorin was walking, alone, towards the room he and Dís shared, forcibly reminded of the fateful day, a full five and a half years before, when Fíli had been born, on a sunny, warm, spring day.  In contrast, his younger child had been born in the very early hours of the morning, on a cold, dark and stormy night.  Thorin wondered if it was some kind of omen.  All thoughts of omens, however, were banished from Thorin’s mind, when he stepped through the door to the bedroom, taking in the sight of Dís lying on the bed, propped up on pillows, cradling a bundle of blankets in her arms, her exhaustion apparent to Thorin from even this distance.

 

Wordlessly, Thorin crossed the room towards Dís, who was gazing down at the bundle, smiling happily.

 

“Dís,” Thorin spoke.  Dís tore her gaze away from the baby in the bundle and looked up at Thorin.

 

“He looks so much like you already,” she told him.  Thorin sank onto the bed so he was sitting beside Dís and she passed the bundle carefully into his arms.  Thorin looked down at the baby, taking in his features.

 

“Hello, little one,” Thorin greeted with a smile, taking in the dark hair that already covered the little baby’s head.  Not just any baby...his son...his second son.  Fíli’s little brother. 

 

Thorin shifted so he was closer to Dís, “He’s so small,” he told her in a hushed voice, “smaller that Fíli was.”

 

“Fíli was big for a dwarf baby,” Dís reminded him, “and this little one was early...of course he’s going to be smaller than most other dwarf babies.”

 

Thorin grinned rather foolishly, having realised it was only logical that his second child would be so small, all things considered.

 

“What shall we name him?” Thorin asked Dís as the baby stirred, wriggled into a more comfortable position, and then relaxed once again.

 

Dís leaned against Thorin’s arm comfortably, and looked down at the baby.

 

“Something that sounds akin to Fili,” she said her voice thick with weariness. Thorin gave her a concerned look.

 

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” He asked. 

 

Dís nodded, “Yes, just tired.  It has been a long night, but I will not sleep until our new baby has a name, and he has been properly introduced to Fíli.”

 

Thorin nodded and returned his gaze to his infant son, lying contentedly in his arms.

 

“What about Kíli?” Thorin suggested, “Fíli and Kíli.”

 

“I like it,” Dís smiled.  Kíli had been her favourite of the names that she and Thorin had suggested to one another during the pregnancy...and Fíli and Thorin had both liked it too.  As she looked at her son, sleeping in his father’s arms, she smiled.  Kíli...it suited him.

 

“Here,” Thorin offered moving to pass Kíli back to his mother, “I’ll go and get Fíli...I imagine he will be awake by now, so he can come and visit, and then you can get some rest.”

 

“Alright,” Dís agreed cradling Kíli in her arms, cooing at him as he stirred and whined in protest at being passed between his parents.  Thorin got up and walked out of the room, but not before he pressed his lips to Dís’ passionately, before he lowered his head and kissed Kíli on the forehead tenderly.

 

Thorin hurried back to the main room, relieved to find everyone awake.  Fíli was standing on the couch between Balin and Dwalin, and he beamed when he saw his father.

 

“Papa, papa...is the baby here?”

 

“Yes he is,” Thorin smiled as Fíli climbed down and ran at Thorin, launching himself into his father’s arms.  Thorin laughed as he caught his eldest son, hugging him close.

 

“Are you ready to come and meet your younger brother?” Thorin asked, his mind flashing back to the fateful day his own father asked him the same question.  Fíli sombrely nodded, and Thorin rose to his full height, still carrying Fíli in his arms, and began walking back towards Dís’ chambers.

 

Dís beamed when she saw Thorin re-enter with Fíli in his arms, but even his mother’s smile could not outshine the smile on Fíli’s face as he leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of his little brother.  Thorin stopped and knelt, setting Fíli on the floor in front of him, but still keeping hold of Fíli’s arm, holding him so that they faced one another.

 

“Fíli...being a big brother is a big responsibility.  There will be times when your mother and I won’t be around, and at times like those you’ll need to be the one to look out for your little brother.  Protect him, and given time, he will protect you just as fiercely.  Guide him, teach him, love him, for there is no bond stronger than that of brotherhood,” Thorin told his eldest son, remembering the advice that Thror had given him the day Frerin had been born, before he added to it with his own words, “Being a big brother isn’t just about protecting your little brother...it’s about being there for him.  I made the mistake of putting my duty to my people ahead of my duty to my brother...even before the battle for Moria, and we both paid for my mistake.  Remember that...that you are equals, even though you are older, and that no duty should ever come between you.”

 

Fíli nodded solemnly once again, and Thorin pulled him into a hug.

 

“I promise that I’ll be a good big brother,” Fili said into Thorin’s ear, and Thorin nodded.

 

“I know you will, Fíli...I have every faith that you will.  Come; let’s go meet your little brother.”

 

Fíli nodded, pulling away from Thorin and approaching the bed.  Thorin rose to his full height, approaching the bed.  Fíli was craning to see from where he stood on the floor, and Thorin shook his head, picking up Fíli with two hands and depositing him on the bed beside his mother.  Fíli crawled forward, peering into the blankets his mother cradled curiously.

 

“Fíli...I’d like you to meet Kíli, your little brother,” Dís tenderly introduced.  Fíli’s smile grew, before he lowered his head and kissed Kíli on the forehead.

 

“Hello Kíli.  I’m Fíli...your big brother.  I’m going to look after you, Kíli.  I promise that nothing’s ever going to happen to you.  I’m not going to let you get hurt.  We’re going to be best friends,” Fíli whispered softly. 

 

Dís, eyes filled with tears, looked up at Thorin, who was watching his son proudly.  Dís reached out with her empty arm and pulled Fíli close, so she could hold both of her sons at once, and Thorin sat down on the edge of the bed, looking over his family protectively.

 

Overhead, the storm raged on, thunder echoing over the mountains of Ered Luin as rain fell from the sky...but Thorin was oblivious to all that existed outside of the room he was in.  Yes, a time would come when Thorin would lead his people and take back Erebor from Smaug...but it was not yet that day.  For that moment Thorin, rightful king under the mountain was content to be simply Thorin, husband of Dís, and the father of Fíli and Kíli

 

Dís looked over the top of Fíli’s head, smiling at Thorin and Thorin smiled back at her, reaching out and taking her chin in his fingers, before he leaned over and kissed her. 

 

“I love you,” he told her, “I love all three of you.”

 

“I love you too, Thorin...and I love our sons as well,” Dís smiled.  Thorin put his arm around the boys, and his other arm around Dís, fully embracing his family.  Things, Thorin decided, couldn’t be even more perfect.


End file.
